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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29350734">untitled professor ryou project</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BDEblueyes/pseuds/BDEblueyes'>BDEblueyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Graveyard [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Maybe - Freeform, also maybe deathshipping, and maybe necroshipping, dark academia vibes maybe?, if i ever pick this up again, potential tendershipping if i ever pick this up again, professor ryou, there's a lot of maybe about this whole thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:55:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29350734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BDEblueyes/pseuds/BDEblueyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Something in him missed the adventures of the ‘old’ days. The adrenalin of the tournaments, and the Shadow Games, and the world nearly ending every 5 minutes. Everything felt so high stakes back then, and now…</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Graveyard [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>untitled professor ryou project</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderwulf/gifts">tenderwulf</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story idea came about partly from the mention of Ryou being a professor of Religious and Occult Studies that I made in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29005077">Too Busy (Being Yours</a>), but mostly from <a href="https://tenderwulf.tumblr.com/post/642471289017237504/hes-rocking-those-dark-academia-vibes?is_highlighted_post=1">this art</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderwulf">tenderwulf</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The door creaked almost imperceptibly as it opened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> imperceptibly. But years of possession by the 3000-year-old ghost of a tomb robber, and the tomb robber’s demonic parasite, had left Ryou with skills few others could claim. Including a heightened sense of situational awareness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look up from the book he was studying. Whoever they were, they were completely non-threatening. And given that he was in his office at Domino University, most likely a student.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Office hours are from 4 to 6 on Thursdays,” he said not unkindly, eyes still trained on the tome on his desk. “Or you can make an appointment by email.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no reply, but the visitor didn’t leave. Ryou got the distinct impression that he was being studied. Well, they could keep studying, however much it made him itch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, feeling the nakedness of his neck more than he had in years. His skin prickled in a rough circle on his chest, and he fought to squash the memories that came with that sensation. A chill washed over him, and he shivered despite the black cardigan he wore, very much regretting his decision to take off his scarf and coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you aren’t willing to either make an appointment or come back during office hours, you’ll have to wait until I’m done with this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schedules existed for a reason, and he was going to finish going over this section before he dealt with whatever they were after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt, rather than saw, them move into the center of the room. Closer to his desk. Not right up to it, but close enough to see what he was doing. It didn’t matter. They were unlikely to understand it anyway, without an in-depth knowledge of both the occult practices of lower Egypt and the author’s particular cipher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his time, poring over the marginalia, making notes in his own journal, until he was satisfied that he’d wrung every useful drop of information from the pages in front of him. Only then did he look up, fully expecting to see some undergrad student with a paper to quibble over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The visitor said nothing, but held out a package for him to take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said with a gasp. “I thought you were one of my students. If you’d said you were delivering something, I wouldn’t have kept you waiting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he’d ordered some things from America last month, but then school had started up again and he’d gotten busy and forgotten all about them. He took the package and deposited it on his desk, then groped around for a pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me sign for that,” he said, turning back to the stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when he realised. It couldn’t have been his parcel from the States. That order was a personal one, and he would never have had it sent to the university. And try as he might, he couldn’t picture the man who had been there only moments before. Couldn’t form words to describe him. Wasn’t even sure he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a he.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole situation felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to his desk, carefully examining the package. It had no address, no markings, nothing to hint at who had sent it or why. It didn’t even have a recipient name. Not his. Not the university’s. But there were no occult sigils on it either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered whether he should even open it. Maybe he should call Honda. It could be a bomb, right? But he didn’t feel like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he had supernatural levels of intuition. It felt dangerous but not in the way that a bomb would. On a much more personal level. Dangerous and exciting. He might even go so far as to say arousing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands tingled as he ran them over the smooth brown surface. The air around him seemed to pulse and thrum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryou reached for his letter opener, the feeling of the carved skeleton on its handle calming him. It had been a gift from his friends to congratulate him on his professorship. Although their lives had become busier than any of them ever thought possible - especially in the light of the things they experienced as teenagers - they still met as often as they could. They were still important to each other. Yugi, Anzu, Jounouchi, Honda… they were only a phone call away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cautiously, he slit the tape that held the package closed, and waited for… he wasn’t quite sure what. But nothing happened. No bangs. No strange glowing lights. Nothing at all. He had to admit that he was a little disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in him missed the adventures of the ‘old’ days. The adrenalin of the tournaments, and the Shadow Games, and the world nearly ending every 5 minutes. Everything felt so high stakes back then, and now… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t complaining. He loved his work. Loved the research he got to do. Loved sharing the knowledge he found. He loved being a professor, although he didn’t love his students. But it was, more often than not, dull as ditchwater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the tip of the letter opener, he lifted the first flap, and gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It couldn’t be…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he felt it in his heart. It was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not taking his eyes off the box or its contents, he grabbed his phone off the desk and called the only person he knew who might have an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rang twice and then- “Ishtar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marik, I think we have a problem,” he whispered, scared to talk any louder in case one of his many nightmares came to pass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ryou? What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping you could tell me... Someone’s sent me the Millennium Ring.”</span>
</p>
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